


a song of souls

by mokiwrites



Series: a strange catharsis [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), IronStrange - Fandom
Genre: Animal Death, M/M, Other, Sort Of, ironstrange isn't the main focus, rip mowgli, stephen strange has a heart, vulture culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokiwrites/pseuds/mokiwrites
Summary: just a little something for myself to cope. stephen being a sweetheart is my jam.





	a song of souls

     Stephen Strange admired the mild January weather from the back porch of the Sanctum with a subtle smile on his lips. Out in the yard, he watched as creatures both corporeal and spiritual investigated the stranger on their hallowed grounds. Beside him, his husband shifted weight to the other leg and uncrossed his arms to slide his hands into his coat pockets. Always with the restless energy.    

“How much longer?” Tony Strange-Stark whispered, leaning in closer.

     “As long as she needs,” Stephen replied matter-of-factly.

     “It’s just a _cat_ , Stephen.”

     “Perhaps to you and me. To her, that cat was her child. A child she lost suddenly and unexpectedly.” Stephen turned to better face his husband, and to keep his voice from traveling despite the whispering. “You of all people should sympathize with that.”

     For a moment, Tony was quiet and let his gaze shrouded by sunglasses linger on the young woman kneeling on the cold and wet ground. As usual, Stephen was right.

     “We got him back, though,” His hand withdrew from the pocket to wind his arm around Stephen’s and lean into him.

     Stephen craned his neck over to place a kiss against the top of Tony's head. His husband didn’t need to say it for the sorcerer to know he understood. It wasn’t a luxury the woman had. There was no bringing back what she had lost.

* * *

  

Her dark, coppery locks had been chopped short and buzzed on the sides since last he saw her, Stephen noticed. It was a good look. Unconventional and androgynous—it suited her. As did the smile she flashed them both as he refilled her tea.

“Hard to believe it’s been an entire year,” She commented, eyes falling to the liquid in her cup, their color nearly matching the reddish-brown.

“You look well,” Stephen smiled amicably.

“It still hurts. I think about him every day. I’ve cried over him more times than I can count. Even though I know there was nothing I could do, I still blame myself a little.” Her fingers fidgeted with the rim of the porcelain cup. Tony’s voice drew her attention.

“Those “What-ifs” will eat you alive from the inside if you let them.”

Both she and Stephen stared at him. He had been fairly quiet through most of the visit.

“You did all that you could. From what Stephen tells me, it wouldn’t have mattered if they caught the tumor earlier. The only one to blame is… life.”

Her lips twitched with emotion and glassy eyes settled on Stephen.

“You picked a good one.”

Tony laughed quietly and Stephen reached over to rest a shaking hand onto one of his, regarding his husband with infinite fondness.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

If one looked hard enough, they might just find a blush on Tony’s cheeks.

 

* * *

 

“Is Mowgli still here?”

Stephen anticipated this question for a while now. Most people would have asked much sooner. She wanted to look strong, he guessed.

“He is. It took him some time to adjust and understand what happened. He misses you, your husband, and his brothers and sisters.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised. This was _the_ Stephen Strange. Of course he could communicate with dead pets. Yet still—she stood there surprised. He filled her stunned silence.

“Would you like to see him?”

“Can I??” Her heart leapt into her throat.

“Absolutely. Come, he tends to stay in my bedroom.”

Tony followed behind the both of them, more curious about this than anything. Watching Stephen do his magic was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

In the spacious bedroom suite—hardly changed in a year’s time except for more of Tony’s belongings scattered about—a cat’s skull rested on the windowsill. Stephen gestured to the armchair beside it and—after moving some books out of it—she sat down. Standing slightly behind her, Stephen placed a hand on her shoulder. Tony placed a hand on Stephen’s.

“Close your eyes,” the sorcerer instructed and they both did.

Words in a language long dead were uttered.

The Vishanti’s power coursed through his every atom.

He reached out to extend it to both her and Tony.

“Now open,”

A ghostly cat as black as the void of eternity sat by the skull, watching her with brilliant yellow-green eyes. Tears gushed instantly.

“Mowgli!” She sobbed out.

The cat replied with the loudest meow and jumped into her lap, weightless yet she could still feel him there. It wasn’t flesh and blood, but she could feel the sensation of petting him and hear his relentless, loud talking. It was more than she could have ever asked for.

Tony stood in both awe and fear, as he had taken a good look around the room at _everything else_ only Stephen could see. In their bedroom. Where he often slept. How many spirits and transdimensional beings had been witness to them making love?

Stephen merely smirked at his husband, his thoughts hardly private when connected as they were.

“Love, this _house_ is sentient. Don’t worry yourself over some wayward critters.”

 

* * *

 

Each of them were squeezed in tight embraces. Tony exaggerated a wheeze while patting her back, Stephen returned it gently with one arm.

“Thank you for everything, Doctor Strange. I don’t know how they go about choosing Sorcerer Supreme’s but I’m glad to have you as ours. You’re a good man.”

“Hey, no more crying,” Tony interrupted as he saw her eyes well—and to save Stephen from having to fumble around with praise he could never accept. “This is good and happy. So no tears.”

She nodded, knowing her voice would break if she tried to speak.

“You are welcome here any time—at least if I’m home, that is.” Stephen offered with a warm smile.

“Or if I’m not keeping him busy.” Tony cocked his lips in a half grin, brows waggling up at his husband.

The woman laughed softly, sniffled, and nodded once more. “Thank you. Again. I really appreciate it. Take care!” She trotted down the stairs and out to the sidewalk where she disappeared into the throng of other people on Bleecker Street.


End file.
